A Pretty Ribbon
by Black Lake
Summary: AU: She looked at the black ribbon in her hand and pulled it at either end listening to the dead sound it made before throwing it in the direction of the bed, not particularly worried about where it landed. PART 2
1. 1

_(See profile for disclaimer)_

_Rating: PG_

* * *

**A Pretty Ribbon**

Pressing against her head, pulling at her hair and itching her scalp- this was a pretty ribbon. A bow wrapped in her hair, Lorelai watched herself in the mirror as her mother continued primping, wanting perfection, wanting absolute perfection. Jerking from side to side as Emily straightened her outfit as if Lorelai couldn't do anything herself. She stared herself out in the mirror, blocking out the vision of her mother. She watched her lips pressing tighter together and it seemed she would break at any moment. 

"Relax, Lorelai." Her mother's voice was abrupt.

"I am." She lied through her teeth.

"You're not. If you look uncomfortable or like you just escaped from a mental asylum in the portrait, it'll be ruined. These things are memories, Lorelai, moments you can never get back, think about that- and your father will be extremely disappointed, you know how he likes things to be nice, as do I."

"You would never allow me to go to a mental asylum." Lorelai quipped.

"Your jokes are not amusing, it's time you started growing up- you're eleven years old remember that, not a five year old. An attitude like that will gain you zero respect." Emily reminded her.

'Blah, blah, blah' Lorelai thought and kept her mouth shut.

* * *

Again, she watched herself in the mirror, even though twenty-six years later things were a lot different and so many years had passed, Lorelai could still remember the feeling of being preoccupied as she stared at herself. The stupid memories burned in her mind. She looked at the black ribbon in her hand and pulled it at either end listening to the dead sound it made before throwing it in the direction of the bed, not particularly worried about where it landed as she walked with long strides towards the door.

Luke heard footsteps and the type of footsteps he knew all too well. He placed his glass of water on the kitchen's prep table and walked through the swinging doors and into the dining room to see Lorelai rounding the corner and entering the room with a look on her face that he had really never seen before. It was cross between disgust and remorse.

"Are you-?"

"This is freakin' ridiculous." She continued on and into the kitchen, crashing through the doors.

Luke turned his head and watched the swinging doors slam against each other as they resumed position. He rubbed one hand against his face and followed her growing a little concerned.

Inside, Lorelai fumbled around for a glass in one of the top cabinets oblivious to the fact that Luke was standing only a few feet away from her. She turned around and dropped the glass watching it shatter against the tiles.

"Damnit!" Lorelai started to bend down.

"Lorelai!" Luke took her by the elbow and she stopped.

Her eyes moved to his. "What?" her voice broke.

"Come here." Luke said soothingly pulling her close.

She stepped over the broken glass and pushed herself as hard as she could against him, letting herself go. She held him tight and he could feel her fingers pressing into his back pushing themselves in even harder as she tried to calm herself down. Her head leaned against his chest and the front of his neck. She could hear his heart beating as she placed her hand on his chest grasping onto the material of his shirt. Luke saw her face and covered her cheek with one of his hands brushing away the wetness surrounding her eyes. Her eyes were clenched shut and the lines created on her face reminded him of the life she has only half endured.

"I wish things were different." She cried into his shirt.

Luke looked momentarily to the ceiling put his hand on the side of her head before he said, "I know you do." He remembers saying those exact words to his Dad years ago, just after his Mother had died.

Lorelai looked up into space, "Just standing in that room and remembering what my life was like made me remember that there isn't anything worth remembering, I feel like blaming it on myself- my childhood was nothing, I didn't have a childhood, my mother gave up on me before she even got to know me, it's like she made the decision to talk to me like she knew me, when she didn't know me. She never made any attempt what so ever to know me, and now I'm feeling sorry for myself because she could never say she was happy for me and that makes me so mad because that's all I've wanted is for her to be genuinely proud of me, but she will never be, and the way things are going it seems that she'll never have the chance to tell me even if she wanted to- she's practically dead."

"Lorelai- you know your mother is proud of you, there is no doubt about that." Luke put his hands on her waist and looked her in the eye.

Lorelai shook her head slowly, "We have to go."

* * *

Richard sat alone in the cafeteria. His eyes drooped and he was ready to give in. His old body didn't want to go through this anymore, he's only human. He hadn't been home in days nor he handed slept or showered. He took long gulps of his coffee, holding onto it and letting it scald his throat as he prolonged the heat. He wished things were different.

He stood up and walked the same route to the room in which is wife lay, passing the same vacuuming lady. His feat grew heavier with each step as he neared the room. Before opening the door, Richard looked through the tiny glass window into the room. Her face was pale and she was hooked up to numerous flashing machines, one for her breathing one for her heart, and others that controlled the amount of fluid and drugs she was receiving- the numbers were changing up and down, up and down. The lamp was on in the corner of the room, and the leather chair that had been placed directly next to the bed had been moved to the other side of the room. The expression on his face didn't changed. He opened the door and resumed his usual position next to the bed after he had moved the chair.

* * *

Later that night, Lorelai lay awake in bed unable to sleep. There were so many unresolved issues between her and her mother, and so many words they both refused to speak. She turned and faced Luke, tracing the lines on his face and neck with her eyes, never wanting to forget his image- soon she would need him more than anything. She rolled over lightly, turned out the lamp, and softly placed her head on his chest closing her eyes and snuggling close.

* * *

TBC... 


	2. 2

**A Pretty Ribbon: Part 2**

It could have been a breath of fresh air coming through an open window, or the delayed rush of air you feel just after a door has been closed. But this draft or breath of fresh air felt different and was coming from somewhere else, maybe from a dream, though dreams never feel supremely real nor are they supposed to be warm- but it, yes, it really was real and she could feel it against her cheek.

Emily came out of that weird state between sleep and consciousness while opening her eyes slightly and attempting to bat off the gushing streams of light trying to make their way through her eyelashes. Her glazed eyes traveled around the room and she felt a sense of purity surrounding her being. It was only then that she felt pressure on her stomach, the pressure she had been oblivious to previously. Her jumpy state caused her to jolt and disturb her husband- the person responsible for the pressure and the air.

Richard had slept for the first time in days and by the way in which he reacted, only began to describe how regretful he felt for falling asleep on her. Since Emily arrived in hospital just a few days ago, Richard had made it his new goal in life to always be there for his wife, though, Richard knew just as well as anyone that no sleep did no one any good. Except, in this situation he wasn't dealing with a phone call or a business deal, he was dealing with his awfully ill wife and that scared him, being there for Emily was never a problem- she wasn't weak and she wasn't dependant on anyone, however, now she was and he didn't know how to deal with that. It seemed that taking away his sleep and being there for her every waking and non-waking hour was the only way he could convince himself that he has been there for her.

The looks on their faces were strange, as if they had never seen each other before and whether or not it was the sleep deprivation on Richard's part responsible for the blank look, it could only be assumed that he didn't have a clue as to what he should say- nothing here was scripted, nothing at all ordinary.

So he waited for her to speak instead, even though he felt somewhat selfish for his actions, Emily was always the first to speak no matter what the circumstance. And what felt like minutes that passed by, the looks they exchanged expired and Richard moved his hand onto hers.

With a rub of his thumb, he opened his dry mouth and-

"Richard." A word, a word was spoken. In that moment, conviction and emotion conveyed in that single name was expressed, small and timid.

-And it was like she hadn't spoken to him in a century as Richard breathed out and forced on the end, "Emily." He swallowed and shook his head, "you're awake."

"It certainly seems like it." She tried to move to gain a more comfortable position but failed as her muscles denied her.

"I should, I, ah, I'll get the nurse." Before Emily had the chance to reply, he was off the chair and out the door.

* * *


End file.
